Feathers and Coils: Refuge
by Hekateras
Summary: "Breathe, feathers, breathe." / Part III of the Full Circle series


"Let's get out of here," Gliss says, and they do just that.

* * *

The city is frozen in a pre-dawn hush.

The angel and demon stumble through the streets together, looking for a place to hide. They try an abandoned hovel, but it is full of close, narrow spaces and feels dank and inescapable, and what they want now more than anything is air.

They are bleeding, the demon-inflicted wounds slow to heal, and limping through it together with an odd sort of shuffling grace. Azariel has his arm draped over Gliss's neck and is clinging to him even as he feels the demon's own wounds leak warmth into his fingers.

He feels a sharp heat in his side and tries to remember if damaged ribs are dangerous, but his mind is slow to cooperate.

They walk down a set of stairs and stumble, and he is jostled roughly against the demon as they catch themselves. There's a burning sensation and a painful shortness of breath and then everything feels faint and dark.

"-_zariel_. Azariel! Come _on_, feathersss, the_ last_ thing you need right now is a trip Upssstairss!" a frantic voice all but yells into his ear.

He opens his eyes and shining red stares back. Gliss blinks once and sags in relief, breathing out in a hiss. The fingers digging painfully into his shoulders slacken, then settle a bit more gently.

Azariel tries to say something to reassure him but is left gaping like a fish on land, his body spasming in panic.

"_Breathe_, feathers, breathe," Gliss murmurs, leaning close, and Azariel does, drawing in air that burns all the way inside but feels immeasurably sweet. Then he feels a hand against his side and gasps in pain, and stammers, "What are you doing?"

"Hold still," Gliss mutters distractedly, his eyes closed. There is a flare of pain, and the burst of demonic energy inside him reminds him of that time he'd accidentally swallowed a mouthful of red chili sauce. He panicks a moment at the frayed state of his own protective aura, but keeps his eyes fixed on the face before him – and after a few moments it is over.

He breathes deeply against the hand on his chest, just in and out.

"Better?" Gliss asks quietly, and he opens his eyes to see the demon smiling softly at him. His face is framed in early sunlight against his messy dark locks, the blood streaked across his chin a startling echo of his brilliant eyes.

Azariel nods. For the first time, he feels the prickle of grass against his skin, and when he looks past the demon he sees lush, blooming shrubs and hears the rustle of trees above them.

"Where are we?" he asks, looking back to the demon.

Gliss looks vaguely defensive. "You stopped breathing," he says heavily. "For... some time, and people were starting to use the streets. I needed someplace quiet to have a look at you, so I had a guard look the other way and snuck you into some noble's garden."

Azariel quietly considers expressing some disapproval at the idea of lounging around in someone's private garden, but can't quite muster the energy. Finally he sighs, "We should be safe here for a while, then?"

"Yep," Gliss nods and offers a hand. Azariel grasps it gratefully and lets the demon pull him into a sitting position. As he does, Gliss's breath hitches and he shifts in pain.

Azariel sighs, then suffuses himself with what little holy power he can summon, pressing a palm into the bloody gash in Gliss's thigh.

"Ouch- that smarts," the demon hisses.

"Fair's fair, my pet," Azariel murmurs. "Do stop squriming." He removes his hand and looks with some satisfaction to the now nasty but no longer life-threatening scar.

Gliss looks over the results, then ducks his head. "Thankss," he says in a low voice.

"Feeling better?" Azariel asks with a smile.

Gliss chuckles and nods. "Yeah. Be a while before we're back in shape, though, either of us."

"That's not precisely what I was referring to," Azariel says quietly.

Gliss's smile fades and his eyes look haunted. He swallows visibly. "Azariel," he hisses. "I- ... I really messed up, I know that, almost got us... almost got you..."

"You felt I was treating you unfairly and you spoke up rather than take it," the angel lays a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "And you were right to do so. While you may not have gone about it in the most... constructive manner, it seems to have turned out well enough, considering."

"Yeah, I still have no idea what the hell happened back there," Gliss grunts, then shifts closer, ruby eyes staring at the angel from beneath a messy mop of hair. "Azariel. You know I meant it back there. I_ am_ sorry."

"As am I," Azariel murmurs and presses his lips against the demon's.

The kiss is awkward the way few human kisses are. When all else fails, a human has good old instinct to fall back on, secure in the comfort that their entire being is, in some way, centered on kisses and what comes after, and thus it is impossible to screw it up too much.

An angel instigating a kiss is more like a stranger arriving in a foreign land of green-skinned people and extending a four-fingered salute because sometime, somewhere, he'd heard that it meant something complimentary.

A demon who finds himself being kissed is only marginally better off, much as if you met a trained dancer and suddenly pulled him in for a waltz – he may not know what you're getting at, but at least he knows the steps.

Gliss, however, sits stiff and unmoving. When Azariel pulls back with a frown, the demon is staring at him with wide eyes.

"...Did I do it wrong?" Azariel asks self-consciously. The demon stares at him for a bit longer.

Then he grins, sharp and sudden, and shakes his head in bewilderment.

"Let'sss find out," Gliss whispers."Make sure we're on the sssame page and everything." He shifts closer until they're breathing the same air, their foreheads almost touching. "Is this alright?" he asks quietly, lifting a hand to trail his fingers down Azariel's cheek, his jaw, the edges of his fingernails teasing over his pulse points and the collumn of his throat.

His breath hitches, and he finds himself nodding.

"Good," the demon breathes, and there is a sudden, joyous brightness in his eyes and Azariel can't look away. "I can work with that."

Gliss leans forward and kisses him with the hungry ruthlessness of someone who has known humans far too long, someone who could die before he got a second chance.

Azariel feels those same clawed fingers thread through his hair and tilt his head into the kiss, mouth against slick mouth, and hears himself make a noise but isn't too sure what he's trying to express.

Gliss pulls back, lips wet and his breathing ragged. "Still alright?" he asks, gaze intense and unwavering.

Azariel feels a smile spread across his face, quite against his volition. He starts nodding but catches himself, instead leaning in to recapture the demon's lips.

For the first time, he _feels_ the grin he has already seen so many times, and it is wonderful.

"I believe we've more or less.. mff... eliminated the potential for miscommunication, my pet," he murmurs sloppily against Gliss's skin as the demon's mouth makes its way down his neck.

"You're seriously going to use long words at a time like this, feathers?" the demon's chuckle thrums against him. He feels a hand slip in a caress down his waist and then Gliss is tipping him back and laying him gently on the grass.

Azariel stares breathlessly at the branches of the trees overhead. "I, um," he stammers as Gliss teases away the ragged remains of the angel's garments with gentle hands, ghosting over the yet unhealed wounds. "I may not have much experience with this sort of thing."

"If it makes you feel better," the demon mouths against the hollow of his shoulder, "neither do I."

Azariel blinks down at him in surprise. "No?"

Gliss stares back for a moment, red eyes inscrutable. "...Not with you," he mutters, and slithers forward to kiss him again, and for a while Azariel is quite lost in the melting midst of it all. He's unsure of what to do with his hands, but decides that running them through Gliss's silky, unkempt hair feels pleasant enough.

"Don't worry," he hears the demon breathe against his skin, trailing lazy kisses across his bare chest and stomach. "No rush, feathers. We've got all the time in the world."

As the last of the tattered fabric is tugged free from him, Azariel shudders and unfurls himself, pulling his demon close with a gentle sweep of his wings. A moment later, a shadow falls over him and dark feathers gleaming red and green and gold brush against his face.

He looks up at Gliss, with his great dark wings spread out and his eyes like rubies, looking neither human nor remotely angelic.

For once, he doesn't mind it in the least.


End file.
